DiFranco's latest one of her greatest

Ani DiFranco's latest, Knuckle Down, is a traffic jam of emotion. As usual, she drives the album home by moving the listener with two instruments — her voice and guitar. Of the 17 self-released albums on her Righteous Babe label since 1990, it's not a stretch to call this one the urban folksinger's strongest to date.\nWhat sets Knuckle Down apart is that, for the first time, DiFranco chose to collaborate in the production process. She also wrote lyrics and composed pieces specifically for the studio that are, as she says, "More string-y and less horn-y." By way of thick, nicely-engineered production and an ensemble of talented musicians, all the colors of DiFranco's palette are at last captured outside of her live performance.\nKnuckle Down, clocking in at an hour, is full of life; vibrant and spirited. Most of the wistful ruminations DiFranco relates stem from her broken marriage as well as the recent passing of her father, to whom she dedicates the record. Her voice is powerful, soul-searching yet proud, irresistible but achingly so in an Alison Krauss almost-whisper. To try and label or compare her work is, to some extent, to overlook the most obvious thing about her, which is Ani DiFranco's being Ani DiFranco: an impassioned feminist, progressive thinker, frank and intelligent lyricist, and more than anything, an individual whose music is best suited to those who experience that special mood only an individual can know. It makes a person feel righteous just sitting there listening to her guitar and that saccharine, down-home alto. \nIn the title-track onwards to the riveting fifth track, "Seeing Eye Dog," DiFranco's concise boho-rapping quavers and leaps to metaphors. She slows the pace down during the album's second half and even to a crawl across the bedroom for the vivid "Parameters," a rehearsal of the spoken word. In "Callous," DiFranco's poignant, can't-be-printed one-liners are heard next to the throb of the bass and an eerie whistle, and two songs later, "Minerva" is equally harrowing. "Paradigm" is a sincere effort that emboldens her voice as she sings with conviction, "But I suppose like anybody/I had to teach myself to see/All that stuff that got lost/ On its way to church," school, and the house of my family/All that stuff that was not lost on me." \nPouring an ocean into a paper cup is what DiFranco does best on stage with her sense of humor, intimacy and busy, stream of conscious playing, but on Knuckle Down she comes as close to that as she possibly can.